


Midnight Visitations

by junko



Series: Curse of the Nue [31]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji gets his hair combed; Byakuya is making a list and checking it twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Visitations

**Author's Note:**

> The first scene in this fic was inspired by the fact that, as I was re-reading the Manga, it struck me that _someone_ went to the trouble to fix Renji's hair for him.

When Renji next drifted back to consciousness, someone had propped him up and was combing his hair. At first, he was so out of it that he thought he must be back in Inuzuri with Rukia going through the tangles looking for nits. “Aw, just cut it off,” he told her fondly. “I know you don’t want to, girl, but it’s a total loss if there’re lice.”

“Lice?” came an unfamiliar male voice. “I’m happy to say, Lieutenant Abarai, that’s one aliment from which you’re not suffering."

He tried to twist to see who it was, but he pulled something deep inside and yelped at the sudden warm rush of pain. 

“Steady.” A hand rested on his shoulder then, flooding him with healing reistsu. “It’s Tenth Seat Souta Tokaji, a medic from the Fourth. You remember me, don’t you, sir? Several days ago, I brought you your dressing gown, the one with the cherry blossoms?”

Renji snorted; he only had the one robe. Besides, he wasn’t likely to forget anything that had happened _that_ day. That was the morning after so much, when he’d found himself sprawled out naked in the wreckage that was Byakuya’s quarters, still tasting blood in his mouth. Speaking of being without clothes, he seemed to be missing the top part of his uniform. When he tried to reach for the covers, his handcuffed hands clanked against the end of the cot they’d been draped over. 

_Right. Still in prison for desertion._

Renji looked up, past the bars, to see that he’d been out so long that there’d been at least one shift change. His team leader Kinjo had been replaced by the Fifth Seat. The Fifth was a tall woman with spiky jet back hair and startlingly electric blue eyes. Renji always thought those eyes could be devastating to a man, and now he knew it, as she was shooting Renji very angry, extremely dirty looks. Apparently alerted by the sound of voices, she took a position near the cell door. She stood warily, her fingers curled around Kokurai, her zanpaktō, as though daring Renji to let her to draw it. 

Souta’s hand left Renji’s shoulder and went back to teasing the snarls out of his hair. “You aren’t serious about wanting your hair cut, are you, sir? Only, if I may say, it’s a lovely color. Do you do something to it?”

“Heh, you randy bastard, you of all people should know I’m a natural redhead. You’ve seen me naked,” Renji teased. He didn’t have to be able to turn around to sense the blush his words caused for poor Souta. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just giving you a hard time. I don’t need a haircut. Just tie it up with something. That’s how I usually wear it.”

“You might as well let him shave it off now, Abarai,” the Fifth sneered. “They’ll just have to do it later when you get sent up to the Maggot’s Nest.”

Behind him, he could hear Souta take in a hissing breath. He seemed to be steeling himself for a fight. But, Renji just smiled toothily, “Nah, I’m not doing any time in the Maggot’s Nest. They usually hang deserters.”

“So you admit it?” she said, her belligerence fading to hurt. Her face paled, and her hand left her sword to cover her mouth. “You really deserted us, Renji? You ran away from your duty?”

The pain in her voice cut worse than any of his injuries. How could he explain himself to her—to any of them? He had no hope of winning her heart back--or his case against the charge, for that matter. He’d left the badge behind. Any tribunal would see his action as proof Renji had walked away from his post on purpose.

Which, in fact, he had.

So what could he say to her anyway? Could she ever see how it had all made sense at the time—when he thought defeating Ichigo would be easy, when he was sure he’d be back on the frontlines in no time? Would she understand if he tried to explain that he hadn’t meant to leave them behind, but gone to save Rukia? 

_No, that just made him a deserter and a traitor._

Renji would have let his head drop in shame if Souta hadn’t been tying his hair up at that moment. 

Standing tribunal was going to seriously suck. But, at least they’d kill him for his crimes, and he wouldn’t have to spend much more of his life getting looks like that from the people who’d trusted him. The unshed tears in the Fifth Seat’s eyes seemed to stab Renji deep in the gut, ripping open the wound caused by Utako’s death—overwhelming him with guilt and sense he’d failed his duty, failed them all. His resolve left him, and he started to break out in a cold sweat. His own reistsu must have been helping Souta hold things at bay because, suddenly, so much pain hit him like a wall. A hiss escaped thorugh his teeth. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes. Renji’s manacled hands fumbled for the edge of the bed, and he barely caught himself in time.

“You should lay back, Lieutenant Abarai,” Souta said suddenly.

“It’s not lieutenant anymore,” he said, letting Souta and gravity guide him back down. “It’s just Renji.”

“Try to rest, sir,” Souta said, pulling the covers over him kindly.

“Goddamn you, Renji Abarai,” the Fifth seat spat at the same time.

Hers was the only voice Renji heard as he was dragged back into unconsciousness.

#

Byakuya was keeping a list. On it were the names of the people who called for Renji’s reinstatement. He’d hoped it would help him figure out who their enemies were, but it was an annoyingly long list. Aizen was the first to make a public plea for Renji, just as Byakuya suspected he would. But, once Aizen made his case, however, everyone seemed to jump on the bandwagon and things got distinctly murky. There were a few Byakuya discounted immediately, like Zaraki, and, honestly, that soft-hearted sod Kyōraku. Unohana, he’d also expected, but, what to make of Tōsen and Komamura? Then, there was the petition that Lieutenant Matsumoto had presented him with yesterday, signed by nearly every lieutenant in the Gotei 13, including the creepy clone daughter of Kurotsuchi, vouching for Renji’s loyalty and character.

And now, apparently, Lieutenant Sasakibe had announced himself at the barracks gates this morning, on official business of the head captain. He would see no one but Byakuya personally. So Byakuya made his way quickly to the main gate, flanked by the anxious Third. He fumbled with the kenseikan as he walked. Luckily, Byakuya had wrestled that stupid hairpiece a thousand times before, and he was able to get it in place without too much trouble.

It was, after all, the only thing he’d removed last night. Byakuya hadn’t slept much. Before leaving, Unohana had reminded Byakuya that the first night was critical for Renji; if he survived it, he’d likely continue to recover. Thus, Byakuya had insisted on a status report on Renji’s condition with every shift change. For the first time in his entire life, Byakuya Kuchiki slept in his office, fully dressed. In fact, he might not have been able to close his eyes at all, had he not decided to pull the mattress from Renji’s quarters and spread it out on the floor. Snuggled deep, surrounded by the smell of Renji, Byakuya had managed fitful rest.

Now Byakuya faced the white-haired, stern-looking Sasakibe feeling somewhat shabby and rumpled. He asked, “What business do you have with the Sixth, Lieutenant Saskibe?”

“Orders from the First,” The lieutenant said, handing Byakuya an official looking form.

“Orders?” Byakuya scanned it, at first expecting to take part in some grand, organized battle plan against the invaders. Instead, what he found was highly… suspicious. And deeply insulting. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Lieutenant Abarai is to be reinstated, effective immediately.”

“I can read, lieutenant,” Byakuya said, thrusting the paper back into Sasakibe’s chest. “But I fail to recall at what point I ceded the command of my division and my soldiers. Is the Captain-Commander seizing control of the day-to-day operations of the Sixth? Has he done so for other divisions?” 

Sasakibe looked confused, but answered, “Uh... no, sir.”

“Then he shall not here,” Byakuya said, letting go of the form. Sasakibe didn’t grab for it, so it fell in the dirt of the street. “Until the head captain removes me from office, I will command my soldiers as I see fit, as is my duty and my right.”

As Byakuya turned away, he made a mental note. Things were much worse than he’d suspected; Aizen’s plans ran very deep. Head Captain Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto could not be trusted. His name moved to the top of the list.

#

The demon was as far away as it had been before Academy. In Renji’s fevered dreams, he was hunting through the alleys of Inuzuri for Zabimaru, digging through garbage, frantically searching under filth and rot. He was running, always running, screaming out Zabimaru’s name. Every time he thought he was close--when he would see its white furry back just around the corner or the snake’s tail slithering over a rooftop--something stood in Renji’s way. 

Sometimes it was Ichigo, other times… it was Byakuya.

A hand gently shook him awake, “Renji, you’re dreaming.”

The moon shone through the barred window of his cell. Renji blinked away the sleep, only to focus on a face straight out of his nightmare. 

Unlike in the dream, however, Byakuya’s hair was bare of the kenseikan. Instead of his uniform and haori, the captain wore the amber kimono, the one with the fluttering hummingbirds embroidered at the hems that Renji loved so much from the Hanami. Was he supposed to assume that Byakuya had come as his lover, not his captain? But, then why did Renji’s veins freeze with fear? He shrunk away, and glanced nervously at the door. No guard was visible anywhere.

“I used Tanma Otoshi, the time out spell,” Byakuya explained calmly. “I couldn’t have a witness, could I?”

Oh gods. Or, wait, was that a joke? The answer was revealed when the captain leaned down and kissed him. It was a gentle, tentative kiss—full of longing, but careful of injuries.

Renji was so shocked he couldn’t respond.

He could hardly breathe.

So much... affection, so much passion in that touch. He'd never felt anything like this from Byakuya before. Ever. What was this supposed to mean? Renji had made peace with the idea that his relationship with the captain involved awkward-sometimes-humilating sex and nothing more. And, this was not a good time for Byakuya to show up all horny and ready to go. Maybe the handcuffs were turning him on? But even Byakuya wouldn't want to fuck him wounded, would he? Okay, once he'd used him as an immobilized sex toy, but... come on, blood would get everywhere, and Renji didn't think Byakuya was _that_ kinky. Besides, the captain had only used 'time out,' Renji's screams would wake the guard.

Byakuya pulled back when Renji’s lips remained immobile, despite tender tugs and teases. His brows drew together briefly in hurt or concern or both. “So, I see,” he said, sitting back primly. A hand disappeared into the folds of his kimono to retrieve the adjutant badge. He flopped it onto Renji’s chest. “You _did_ intend to leave me. Care to explain?”

“No,” Renji said. Byakuya had no doubt gotten the full report from whoever had picked him up on the scene. He knew where Renji had been found. He must have guessed what Renji had gone to do. “Doesn’t matter, anyway, I failed.”

Byakuya’s lips parted then, just slightly, as though he were going to say something. He stopped himself and frowned again. “Yes,” he said, at last. “You did. But, we should consider that a blessing, I suppose, or you would be marked a traitor now. What would you have done if you had managed to kill Ichigo Kurosaki? Would you have stormed Senaikyû Shishinrô and released Rukia? What then? Did you plan to go on the lam? Did you not think that all of the resources of the Soul Society would descend on you like a swarm of hornets? Each and every one of us, Renji. Including me.”

Of course Renji hadn’t thought that far ahead, so he turned his head away. He noticed someone—Captain Unohana?—had brought in a second cot. The broken pieces of Zabimaru lay on it. The zanpaktō looked awful; Renji ached to hold him, have him closer. But, his hands were bound. He could hardly lift his head on his own, and he was fucking handcuffed. 

Byakuya turned to see what had caught Renji’s attention. “Ah, of course. All of this you did on instinct, am I right? No thinking required; demon on board.”

Damn, it hurt when Byakuya was right. “Fuck off.”

“Do you know the names of the people you sent to the infirmary, Renji? Has anyone read you the roll?”

“Don’t,” he said. His heart couldn’t take knowing just who he’d injured. What if it’d been someone like Rikichi? “Just don't. That’s not fair. I don’t even remember doing it.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Perhaps I should charge Zabimaru for the assault and battery. Should he stand for the desertion, too?”

Renji just shook his head. Zabimaru was laying there, half-dead, and all this weird jealousy of Byakuya’s was such an old, stupid argument, anyway. One they had no hope of resolving--maybe if Byakuya loved him, but... well, that road was closed. Finally, after a long moment of staring at the ceiling Renji said, “Desertion is a capital offense, Byakuya. You just planning on going from one execution to the next?”

“No,” Byakuya said quietly. “ _You_ I’d hoped to save.”

“But not Rukia? She's your family!” Renji snapped, his eyes finally returning to Byakuya’s impassive face. “Fuck me, I’d die so she could live.”

“Obviously, which is part of why you’ll say here until everything is over.”

Renji couldn’t help it, he lunged for Byakuya. Not that it was much of an attack, given how much his muscles protested at every movement. Stitches tore, wounds reopened, and it was little more than a clumsy swing of manacled hands. Byakuya dodged easily, using shunpō. But, for some reason, this time, it played out in Renji’s head. It was though he could almost track the lift of hand that blocked and redirected his blow, the liquid move to standing at the same moment, and finally the three steps that had Byakuya straddling him on the cot, still gripping the handcuffs. It was a golden blur of kimono, but somehow Renji saw it all.

The pressure of Byakuya’s knees as they dropped down on either side of him, however, brought him back to real time and made Renji cry out.

“I had more things I wished to speak with you about, Renji,” Byakuya said, still straddling him in an awkward, twisted position. “But I see it will have to wait until you can think clearly.”

Renji was starting to pass out again. He had to clench his teeth with the effort to stay afloat, above the pain. Things were starting to fade, but he swore he felt Byakuya’s lips on his hands and heard a whispered, “Stay alive, and just don’t do anything reckless.”

 _Why?_ Renji tried to ask, _I’ve lost everything—my vice captaincy, the trust of my soldiers, you\--so what the fuck am I even living for, if not Rukia?_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Renji's being the dope now. But, all the history with Byakuya hasn't helped one bit....


End file.
